


Echo

by dean_n_pie



Series: A Fic A Day [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad, death!fic, fotd, post 'hammer of the gods'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_n_pie/pseuds/dean_n_pie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam prays to Gabriel after he sacrificed himself at Elysian Fields.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo

**Author's Note:**

> ooooh look im back with the fotd.
> 
> angstangstANGST :DDDD
> 
> sorry about this, anyway. 
> 
> unbeta'ed.

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name_  
Like a fool at the top of my lungs  
Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright  
But it's never enough 

Sam sighs, downing the last of the bottle. He's leaning on the back of the Impala in Bobby's backyard; Dean collapsed on the couch the second they got there, threatening anyone who woke him before he got his four hours with bodily harm, and Bobby isn't gonna take the effort to roll himself out there. He looks up at the starry sky, so much clearer in the rural area Bobby lives in than near the motels they always stay at. Speaking of motels...

Sam takes a long shuddering breath, trying to ignore the gaping hole in his chest. He fights off the tears that come, instead grabbing another bottle (it's only his fifth) and chugging half of it at once. It doesn't help. 

A single tear falls, splashing on the ground. Sam stares at the place where it fell, and tries to force his mind anywhere but the events of four hours ago.

_But you can't, can you, because he's gone and you know he isn't coming back_.

Sam runs his hand through his hair, then grips it tight, hoping the physical pain will distract his brain for a couple seconds. It doesn't work.

He lets go and slides down the back of the Impala until he's sitting on the ground, propped up against the car. Sam wraps his arms around his knees and buries his head into his arms. He refuses to cry.

His whisper stirs the hair on his arm, a raw sound that almost seems ripped from him. 

"Gabriel..."

He looks back up at the sky. "Gabriel... are you up there? Or are you d-" 

He can't say it. Saying it would make it real, possible. And it can't be, it can't be real, because it's him, it's Gabriel, and he can't be de- _gone_ , Sam's mind corrects.

He looks down again, forming the words with his mouth. Nothing comes out aside from a choked-off sob. He swallows the tears and pain and looks back up at the sky, closing his eyes.

"Gabriel, I don't - I don't even know if you can hear me, but uh-" He clears his throat. "Thank you. For everything. Even if you weren't doing it for us, or me, or whatever... Thanks."

He takes another deep breath, calming and slow. "I don't think I'll ever know how much you did for us, but I know it was huge. And you probably helped save the world. So uh - good on you, I guess."

He snorts derisively. "I sound so fucking stupid."

He looks around, making sure no one else is around, and takes another swig of the beer. He'd expected his mind to be numbed by now. It isn't. 

There's a new feeling curling in his chest now. Not the guilt, that's an ever-present emotion. Not the sadness either, he's already used to it. It's new, painful, and overpowering. He regrets Gabriel's death, regrets it with every fibre of his being. He can feel the emptiness in his chest expand, taking pieces of himself with it.

And it's strange, how much regret he feels over the loss of someone he didn't even consider a friend, someone he once may have even said was his enemy.

He chuckles, but it sounds more like poorly-disguised grief than anything happy. "I don't even know why I'm so upset over this, I mean... The last time we saw each other was during that stupid TV prank, and then there were those times you killed Dean a hundred times, but uh - I guess I forgave you a long time ago.

"I just wanted to know... Why did you do it? I mean, I get it if you were doing it for Kali, but why help me and Dean? Last I knew, you were alright with the apocalypse happening. So what changed?" 

Sam looks at the ground and absently starts drawing in the dirt. Random swoops and curls, no real pattern. Unpredictable. _Kinda like Gabriel_.

"You know what... The thing I regret most about all this? It's that I never asked you these questions before, that I never took the time to try and figure you out. I know you weren't all bad, but... Why?"

Sam opens his eyes, not knowing what he expects to see. Maybe a shooting star, maybe a brighter sky, maybe... maybe Gabriel himself, hovering over Sam, with a teasing remark on his tongue ready to be thrown when Sam notices him.

There's nothing.

He finally lets the floodgates fall, and the tears come streaming down his face. He doesn't move to wipe them away, instead continuing to draw in the dirt. 

"Gabriel, I just - come back. Please."

Because there is a possibility, a potential, one that Sam never explored before now, _but I should have_ , and it's too late, it will always be too late. And he can't change it, however much he wants to. All he can do is fight Lucifer; fight for Dean, fight for Bobby, fight for the world... and even for Gabriel. Maybe even mostly for Gabriel. 

"Gabriel... I think we could have maybe been something wonderful. But we'll never get the chance, and for that, I am so, so sorry."

Sam puts down the bottle and slowly stands up, using the car as help. He's unsteady on his feet from drinking, but he's used to the effects and doesn't topple over. He leans on the car for a minute, staring down at the polished metal, before squeezing his eyes shut. 

_We could have been something. I know it._

Sam wipes his face with his hands, smearing the tears and trying to look as though he wasn't crying over the archangel who just sacrificed himself for their cause. He can't disguise it. Luckily, no one sees him as he makes his way back to the house, eyes red and hair mussed.

He stumbles into the house before the sun rises, falling onto the bed in the guest room and immediately curling up around a pillow. For some reason Sam wants the comfort of a living, breathing person. Someone who knows him better than he knows himself, someone who he didn't have to hide from.

His dreams are haunted by the memories of golden eyes, the slick movement of a mouth against his, and the overwhelming feelings of love and regret. 

_Cause my echo, echo  
Is the only thing coming back_


End file.
